Previously:

Slowly, Barbossa looked up, letting out a small, surprised little scoff.

"I feel…" he started, his face gaining an uncertain small smile, before it bled away into disappointment and fear.

"…cold."

And with that, Hector Barbossa, the Pirate Lord of the Caspian Sea, the Scourge of the Caribbean for a decade, fell into a pile of gold and treasure, a green apple rolling from his slackened hand.

And Will wept.

The sun was glaring overhead, making the open courtyard feel almost as if it were an oven, people desperately clinging to the shades, the men gazing with envy from the corners of their eyes at the fans the women were desperately wielding to ward off the heat.

Still, the people were determined to defy the might of the sun rather than miss an event this spectacular.

After all, it wasn't every day that a Pirate Captain was to be hanged.

For the second time, at that!

So, squinting their eyes and holding up their hands against their heads against the rays of the sun, the gathered people of Port Royal gazed with anticipation and glee at the figure of Jack Sparrow, who stood upon the gallows, the rope already fastened around his neck.

Some of them were rather disappointed though, since the Pirate didn't even seem to really care about the fact that he was about to die, both for breaking the law, but more importantly, for their amusement as well.

Not to mention that the actual hanging was taking quite a bit longer than anticipated, the judge holding up a parchment that was larger and longer than most people had ever seen in their lives. Granted, some of the crimes were at least a bit amusing (infiltrating a monastery in order to seduce the nuns there came to mind), but you can only listen to various variations on 'the theft of…' before it becomes a bit boring.

Eventually however, the judge had finally reached the bottom of the list (after having to take a short break in order to wet his parched throat), deftly rolling the document up and handing it over to an aide. Straightening, the judge clasped his wrinkled hands behind his back as he looked at the calm pirate down the length of his nose.

"Does the accused, Jack Sparrow, have any final words, to be heard by the people of Port Royal and God, the Almighty?"

For a moment, Sparrow didn't say a word, and it took the judge clearing his throat multiple times before the pirate startled awake, apparently having dozed off during the long minutes that his crimes were listed.

"Sorry, wazzat?" the pirate mumbled, bleary blinking his eyes as he leaned close to the judge, who took a few hurried steps backwards, nearly tipping over the edge of the gallows.

After regaining his balance (and straightening his jacket, his glasses as well as his wig) and giving another pompous clearing of the throat, the judge repeated himself, sounding just a tad angrier than before.

"Does the accused, Jack Sparrow, have any final words before the people of Port Royal and God, the Almighty?"

For just a few moments, Sparrow seemed to contemplate the other man's words, his eyes slowly panning across the assembled crowd, before he seemed to spot something, since he suddenly let out a massive grin.

"It's Captain."

For a moment, a silence fell over the courtyard, before it was broken by the befuddled voice of the judge, his bushy white eyebrows pulling together in a confused frown.

"…God, the Captain?"

"What? No! No, of course not God the Captain! Captain Jack Sparrow! Savvy? Oh whatever, let's just get this over with. I ain't got whole day, got places to be you know. Preferably somewhere nice an' hot." The pirate said annoyed, a few of the daintier women in the crowd letting out fearful cries at his blasphemous words, before fainting (though that might actually have been the heat's fault come to think about it).

The judge seemed rather affronted as well, glaring at the unrepentant pirate before giving the headsman a harsh nod. Without much fanfare, the hooded man stepped forwards and heaved on the lever with his unnaturally hairy arms, causing the trapdoor between the Captain's boots to fall away.

There was a brief flash of surprise that crossed Sparrow's face before he fell a meter or so, coming to an abrupt stop as the crowd cheered on wildly. Their cheers rose in pitch as the pirate started struggling, much like a fish at the end of a line, his feet kicking at empty air. The writhing lasted for several minutes before it slowly started to die down, until only twitches remained.

Eventually, they too stilled.

Captain Jack Sparrow had died.

From the terrace where the elite of Port Royal were seated, Commodore Norrington frowned at the swaying body of the man that had seemed to slip past not just his own clutches or that of the law, but even those of Death itself with miraculous ease (or just dumb luck) time and again.

It seemed that even pirates such as Sparrow couldn't outrun their fate forever, no matter how hard they tried.

The corners of his mouth drew down in a forbidding grimace, pulling at the slim scar that ran from his temple down to his cheek, courtesy of that horrid night where he and his men tried (and succeeded) to take back the Dauntless from a horde of undead, cursed skeletons.

After the whirlwind of madness that had followed on Jack Sparrow's heels, and the subsequent adventure and excitement it had brought into everyone's lives (completely disregarding whether they had wished for any or not), it felt… wrong somehow, for it all to end this mundane.

'This was easy. Too easy.' The Commodore thought to himself, his eyes searching the crowd, the ramparts, and the passageways leading to the courtyard, searching for even the slightest hint of trouble.

He found none.

Well, that wasn't exactly true he supposed, spotting a man standing in the crowd who looked up at the swaying body of his compatriot with a remarkably calm expression. Giving a short bow and some muttered apologies, Norrington took his leave of the waffling lords and ladies as he strode towards his target, the gathered crowd easily parting before his forbidding gaze.

"Mr. Turner!"

The blacksmith was visibly startled at his call, turning towards him with wide eyes. Briefly, Norrington he could see a flash of panic flit over the man's face, but it was gone so soon that he might have imagined it. Instead, the young blacksmith (and pardoned criminal) drew himself up tall, staring the Commodore straight in his eyes.

"Commodore Norrington." Turner replied, giving a short nod in greeting.

It seems that despite Sparrow's and Howlett's greatest efforts, they hadn't quite managed to rid the boy of his ingrained polite mannerisms, probably one of the very few things that Norrington was willing to concede to the man.

"I must say, Mr. Turner. By now, I would have suspected some… foolishness, on your part. An ill-thought out plan to rescue Sparrow, perhaps?"

"No, sir. No rescue attempt. It's the Pirate's Code you see. 'Who falls behind, gets left behind.' Jack fell behind when he lied to me. To everyone." The young blacksmith said, his voice soft and tone withdrawn.

Still, something was… off. Norrington knew, deep in his bones, that something more was going on here. Something that he couldn't quite put his finger on, a joke that he wasn't privy to.

"And you fancy yourself a pirate then, still keeping to their Code? Even after the pardon you were given?" Norrington pressed, feeling an undeniable urge to get to the bottom of what was going on here, like a particularly stubborn terrier with an unusually juicy bone.

A wry smile was his only answer.

"Perhaps you have found the foolishness you were looking for after all." The blacksmith suggested, gaining a frown from Norrington (which once again pulled against the scar on his face).

"It is in your best interest to rid yourself of those notions, Mr. Turner. As grateful as the Navy is to the aid you and your companions have provided in the battle against Barbossa, you only need to look to your compatriot to see the fate that awaits all pirates." Norrington said harshly, irritation welling up inside him as he found the answer to his questions starting to slip away from him.

Still, the taut pulling of the skin of his face reminded him of the horrors he had faced during the battle against Barbossa, and honor compelled him to slightly adjust his spiteful tone, calling out the words as he turned on his heel.

"In recognition of your deeds, Mr. Turner, I am willing to give you a day's head start. That should provide you with enough distance to make the chase somewhat memorable at least." The Commodore said, already walking off.

He was halted in his tracks by the blacksmith's words.

"There's no need for that Commodore Norrington. I do not intend to leave Port Royal anytime soon. I am, however, intending to do something remarkably foolish."

"Mr. Turner, what even are you-" Norrington started with a sigh, turning around as he spoke, only to find that the blacksmith had already walked past him with a purposeful stride, determination written clearly on his face.

And he seemed to be heading to the terrace.

Right towards the Governor.

"Mr. Turner! Mr. Turner, stop right there!" Norrington barked, which put his men at attention, many of them already moving towards him.

But they were all too late, since Turner ascended the few steps to the pavilion with quick and easy steps, coming to a halt in front of the aged Governor, Norrington close enough on his heels to hear his words, but not put a stop to them.

"Governor Swann. I know about the arrangement that had been made between your daughter and the Commodore. And I must apologize from the bottom of my heart for this, but I find myself without a choice. Elizabeth…"

And with that, the blacksmith turned towards Miss Swann, who was seated beside her father, watching the proceedings with wide eyes, her mouth falling slack as her fan dropped from limp fingers as she (and the rest of the courtyard as well) stared in shock as the blacksmith dropped to one knee.

"… will you marry me?"

The entire courtyard stilled, and even Norrington found that he had stopped moving, already halfway up the stairs and his hand on the hilt of his sword (fashioned by the man he was about to draw it on no less).

"Oh Will…" Elizabeth whispered, her words carrying clearly across the silent courtyard.

The young blacksmith quickly forged on however, probably knowing that these might very well be his last words spoken as a free man.

"I know. I know. This is all far too late. I shouldn't say this when you are already engaged to another men. I shouldn't say this when I'm a pardoned criminal and you're the Governor's daughter. I shouldn't say this now, in public, in front of everyone and certainly not in front of your father. But I have to, Elizabeth. In Isla de Muerta, I thought I lost you. And I realized that I should've told you that I love you long before know. Back when I delivered the Commodore's sword. Back when I came to tell you that I got an apprenticeship as a blacksmith. I should've told you the moment I fell in love with you: when you pulled me from the water as a little boy, and you were the first thing that I saw when I awoke. I love you, Elizabeth Swann. I have always loved you and I always shall. And I know that you can't respond to my proposal, but-"

It was this point that the Commodore felt feeling return to his limbs, anger roaring to life inside his chest as he stomped up the stairs, his blade drawn from his sheath in a flash of steel as he-

"I accept!"

Elizabeth's words struck both men with silence, staring at her with equally shocked expressions. But, the Commodore was quick to notice, the only one of them that Elizabeth had eyes for was the young blacksmith kneeling at her feet.

"Elizabeth! You can't just-" the Governor began, but his daughter was quick to interrupt him, springing up from her chair and pulling Turner up with her, curling up against his side (the young man barely even seemed to notice anything happening at all, still staring at the world with wide, disbelieving eyes).

"I'm sorry Father. And I'm sorry, James. I am. You are a fine man. I am sure that someday, you will find a woman for whom you can be a fine husband as well. But you won't be mine. Cannot be mine. I love Will. I will always love Will. If you were to take him away from me, that would not change. If you locked him in the dungeons for the remainder of his life, my yearning for him would only grow. And if you hanged him, then rest assured that anger and hatred, not love, will be yours to claim in our marriage. I'm sorry, James. But I wish to marry Will." The young woman pleaded, grabbing Turner's arm with a strong enough grip that her knuckles turned white, her dainty face raised in defiance against him, her father and society in general.

"This is it, then. You've made your choice." Norrington said in a soft, low voice, his eyes slowly moving from the woman he loved, to the blacksmith he had dismissed a nearly non-existent not even a month ago.

"I have."

There was uncertainty in her voice. She didn't know if her speech would have swayed him, or more importantly her father. Hell, if the general populace thought that a marriage between such vastly different social standings was an abomination, then there was a real chance that even with the Governor's blessing, such a union would never be allowed.

But there was no fear.

Whatever fate both Mr. Turner and Miss Swann had called down upon themselves by declaring their love for one another in front of everyone, Miss Swann's father and fiancée included, both were completely unafraid of what was to come, content in at last having confessed their feelings.

"I see." Norrington slowly said, his tone of voice completely flat, his scarred face unreadable.

The problem was that he really did see. Elizabeth's words kept repeating themselves over and over in his head. He kept thinking back to 'anger and hatred will be yours to claim' as he stared at the beautiful woman in front of him.

And he realized that he did not want that.

People thought that his life was perfect, smooth sailing all the way. A prestigious career in the Royal Navy, making promotions at a remarkably young age and with a bright future ahead of him. His family was well off, and he was making significant connections within the upper layers of society, at least in Port Royal. A beautiful wife (a Governor's daughter no less) would only add to the grand course that his life was seemingly set on.

But how would that life end up, if he had a wife who hated him. It wasn't easy, having a family as well as a life at sea. There would be long absences as he toiled upon the waves of the Caribbean Seas, only to return to a cold home that wished to see as little as possible. In that moment, standing in the sunny courtyard of Port Royal, his sword aimed at the man who his fiancée was in love with, James Norrington saw his entire life play out in a single flash.

He would become resentful. Instead of resting his weary body and mind after long months spent at sea in a warm and loving home, he would return to a spiteful wife. He would find no rest there, and would probably be anxious to leave that which should be a safe haven as soon as possible again. He would spend longer times at sea, and start dreading returning to his house (for it could not be called a home) where his embittered wife would be waiting to release her spent up rage at him. They would become strangers living under the same roof, their only common ground their dislike of each other. Eventually, he would either choose to not return to shore at all… or he would return one night, just a little too weary. A little too frustrated. A little too… drunk. And his life, and that of Elizabeth Swann, would end in tragedy.

Seeing all that in the blink of an eye, Commodore Norrington came to a startling realization.

'I want no part in that.'

And to the surprise of everybody present (himself included) he sheathed his sword. For a moment, he struggled to find the words to say, before he gave a tired sigh, looking at the shocked face of Elizabeth, towards the gob smacked one of Mr. Turner.

"If you harm her… if you do not make her happy… I will track you down, and hang you from the nearest tree, unless I cut your head off first. Understood?"

In that moment, as they locked eyes, understanding passed between the two vastly different men, and Turner drew himself up tall, giving him an earnest nod.

"If I ever lift a hand against her, I will tie the rope for you myself."

Giving an accepting nod in return, the Commodore smartly turned on his heels, and made to descend the steps, the shocked voice of the Governor halting him in his tracks.

"Commodore? Commodore, what are you doing?!"

Looking over his shoulder at the man that had made so much of his life and career possible, Norrington gifted the Governor a small, wry smile.

"Well, as Barbossa and his crew have shown us, there are dangers out there that require men of skill and determination to defeat. I feel that it is my duty to go back out there and defend the good people of Port Royal from threats that they are unequipped to defend themselves from. Besides, we might have gotten Jack Sparrow, but his compatriots are still on the loose. Should they prove themselves as slippery as their former Captain, then they shall require my undivided attention. As such, I cannot in good conscience keep to the marriage contract drawn up between me and your daughter, and since I do not wish to breach such a contract, I deem it void. She is free to marry who she wishes."

For a moment, the Governor merely stared at Norrington, before an approving smile spread across his lined face.

"Quite right. Quite right. Always knew you were the right sort, Commodore, an honorable man. Feel free to take your leave then, the people of Port Royal are in your debt." The man said with a small bow, which Norrington returned with a crisp salute.

And then he was gone, not looking back as Elizabeth threw her hands around Will's neck and kissed him in full view of the courtyard, prompting even bigger cheers then when Jack Sparrow had stopped swaying from his noose.

In all of the ensuing excitement, nobody paid any attention to the unusually hairy hangman, who cut down said pirate, placed him on a wheelbarrow, and quietly left the courtyard unnoticed.

The hangman didn't stop walking until he and his cargo were down at the shadier parts of the docks of Port Royal, the few people he met on the way there quickly averting their eyes and moving to the side at his approach.

Coming to a halt in a murky back alley behind a series of shops and store houses, the hangman looked around, trying to spot if he was truly alone. He tilted his head and sniffing noises came from his black hood, as if the being underneath the dark cloth was more animal than man.

Only once he was completely secure in the knowledge that nobody was around to spot him, did he take off the hood, taking a deep breath of fresh air, a soft breeze ruffling his oddly spiked hair and caressing the heavy sideburns that covered his cheeks.

With a growl, James Howlett gave the wheelbarrow a kick, jostling the corpse of Jack Sparrow.

"Alright girly, you can stop playin' now. We're safe."

A ripple went across the still form of Jack Sparrow, unveiling blue skin and fiery red hair, the woman clambering out of the wheelbarrow with unnatural agility, her yellow eyes shining as she let out a smirk.

"Sure. If by 'safe' you mean still in the heart of the port city where neither one of us are exactly welcomed or supposed to be in the first place." Raven said with a sly smile, before shifting back into the ebony form of Annamerie.

James merely snorted.

"Not like that's stopped us before. 'sides, it was Jack that they wanted to hang, and they did, so they won't be looking for him all too hard. And Will and Elizabeth seemed to be doing fine too, so everything's just swell. All that's left now is to make our way out of this bay and then we can be on our way, off to the next adventure." The immortal said with a large grin, before his expression turned somewhat more serious.

"How's your chest?" he rumbled, a frown on his face.

"My, James, you certainly know how to woo a dame, now don't ya?" Mystique said with a smile, making the clawed mutant roll his eyes.

"The shotwound Raven, you know I meant the shotwound." James said as he peered around the corner of the warehouse they were hiding behind.

"I might not heal as well as you do, but a gunshot ain't enough to keep me down for more than a day James. Even if that thing that Barbossa used was more like a cannon than a gun." The shapeshifter groused, placing a hand against her midriff as she recalled being shot by the dark Captain.

James absentmindedly shook his head as started counting the amount of guards and marines that occupied the docks.

"Nah. Cannon feels way different than a gunshot. Totally different kind of pain." The immortal said dismissively, completely missing the startled blink of Raven, before the blue skinned mutant shook her head and cleared her throat.

"Anyways, the hanging weren't none too pleasant either, but I'll manage. I'm more worried about you; my guess is you wanna escape underwater again, don't you? I'll be fine, I'll just grow gills, but how will you manage? You stay down there long enough, even you might drown James Howlett." Raven replied, joining him in surveying the street.

They were close to the waterline, only thirty feet away at most. The problem was that, even with the event going up in the keep, the docks were still as busy as they always were, with throngs of people walking around, ferrying cargo and messages, patrols of redshirts stomping around in tight formations.

While the chaos of it all could work to their advantage (especially in Raven's case as she could look like any one person in that muddled crowd) it also heightened the chance of them running into trouble.

It was a Howlett trait, James supposed, glancing as yet another patrol of marines quickly marched past their hiding place.

However, it didn't take the decennia old mutants long to find a pattern in the schedule of the dock-guards and the marines, and once they had, they patiently bided their time. On the heels of the latest patrol passing them by, both mutants left their hiding place and made their way towards the water line with calm, but hurried steps.

Running like outlaws would get them the attention of outlaws, so it was best to simply measure their strides to fit the hurried pace of the rest of the docks, slipping past people as subtly as possible. A near-miss later (a couple of guardsman turning the corner at the same time as they did, but the both of them had simply slid down against a stack of crates, hats pulled low and hands outstretched. The marines hadn't even given the two beggars a second glance, and the moment the last in the formation had passed them, Raven and James were on the move again) and they stood at the end of one of the smaller piers.

"Ready?" Raven asked as she glanced at James from the corner of her eyes, which had already turned back to their sulphur color in preparation of her further shapeshifting.

James grumbled as he looked at the clear water in front of him.

"I hate getting wet." The immortal grumbled, before giving Raven a determined nod.

And before anyone working at the docks cared to gaze in their direction, both mutants dove into the waves below, vanishing underneath the surface and not coming back up again.

As was usually the case whenever he walked over the seafloor (a depressingly more often occurring phenomenon than James would've preferred honestly) James reflected on his situation and could only come to a single, logical conclusion.

'This sucks.'

The salty water stinging his eyes, clogging his nose and filling his lungs was bad enough, but then there was the fact that he was cold, and wet, and there was an enormous weight pressing down on him from every point on his skin, making it feel as if he were hauling a huge rock through the mulish loose sand of the seafloor.

No, James Howlett certainly didn't enjoy his current situation a single bit.

What made things worse was that Raven seemed to be completely in her element.

Then again, shapeshifters are always in their element.

With webbed hands, flippers for feet and gills on the side of her neck, Raven looked as if she was kin to the legendary mermaids, a creature born from the sea as she whipped around him and above him, more playful than he was used from her.

Then again, down here there were hardly any humans who could fear her for her unnatural appearance, besides James himself of course, and since he was currently walking across the seafloor like a drowned man who hadn't gotten the news of his own passing yet, he hardly had any room to talk.

Literally.

However, after walking (and swimming) for a good hour, the two mutants came to a curious sight. It was an anchor, which in itself wasn't all that unusual out in the open sea. No, the unusual part came from the cage that was attached to the enormous anchor, or rather, what was inside the cage.

A monkey which, despite being at the bottom of the sea, was still jumping up and down in its cage in clear indignation at its current fate. Being in a somewhat similar position, James could sympathize.

With a grin, Raven shot towards the cage, easily breaking the lock and taking the small monkey into her arms, while James pulled himself up onto the anchor. Looking up to the underside of the hull of a ship far above him, the immortal gave a silent sigh (it made no sound, but it did create quite a lot of bubbles) and started climbing up the long chain towards the surface, Raven making easy laps around his laboring form, undead monkey still clutched in her arms.

After nearly twenty minutes, when the surface was finally getting close, Raven dove back down into the dark depths with a graceful backwards arch, before rapidly kicking her powerful legs, shooting upwards past James and leaving bubbles and a ruffled immortal in her wake as she burst from the water onto the deck above.

Giving a shake of his head, James hauled himself up another link, gratefully taking a breath of air for the first time in almost an hour (after violently hacking out all the water in his lungs). As his coughing subsided, he could hear a familiar voice coming from the deck up above him.

"No, no, no! Do you know how long it took to catch the damned thing?!"

"I don't care Jack! Immortal or not, I won't have you tie animals to your anchors anymore! That's just cruel, why would you even do such a thing?!"

"Why…! But, it…! It stole my hat!"

"I don't care about your silly hat, this won't happen again, am I understood? You owe me this much after I got executed for you Jack Sparrow!"

"Captain!"

"Don't care!"

Giving a sigh as the bickering continued, James looked to the side, where he could see a few man sitting in a longboat, all looking at him with wide eyes. After a few moments of just staring at one another, Gibbs pushed his way forwards from the back of the longboat, offering James a toothy grin.

"Ahoi there James! Climb aboard, we'll hoist up this boat so you won't have to climb the rest of the way!"

After nodding his thanks and clambering aboard the longboat, James fell down heavily onto the bench, feeling the tiredness of the past hour slowly bleed away from his body. Feeling a jolt go through the boat, the clawed mutant saw that they had reached the deck of the Black Pearl, and with a graceful jump that belied the monumental physical labor he had just endured, James Howlett once more set foot atop the black ship's deck.

After the curse had been lifted and Barbossa killed (and a tearful William looked up confused at a healthy Elizabeth, while Jack helped a wounded Raven to her feet) some rather quick thinking had to be done between the four of them. It was quickly understood that amongst their group, it was Jack who was in the most danger. Elizabeth would be fine, of course, being not just the Governor's daughter but officially a victim in all of this, though a victim who hadn't done the greatest job of staying out of harm's way. Subsequently, Will wouldn't have too much to fear as well. Yes he had sprung two criminals from jail and stolen two ships (one of which was now at the bottom of the ocean) but Miss Swann had her father wrapped around her finger, and the Governor had always liked the polite young blacksmith. He might have to face some jail time or a hefty fine at the most, but there was no fear of him being executed. Mystique, of course, had very little to fear from the Royal Navy, especially since she could literally grow gills and swim away from here, never to be found again.

But Jack? Jack had a long list of crimes to his names, and had already been slated for execution four times over the course of his career as a pirate. Despite his role in taking down Barbossa, there simply was no way the justice system would allow Jack to avoid the noose this time.

Nobody was really worried about James, since they very much doubted anyone even knew how to kill him, James himself included.

So a plan had quickly been hatched and immediately executed. Mystique, still recovering from the bullet hole in her chest, transformed into Jack, complete with his signature swaying (though that also might have been because of the pain), while Jack would take one of the remaining longboats in search of his beloved ship and tolerated crew. Annamarie would pass of as Jack and get 'executed' (for someone who can hold their breath for well over an hour, reinforce their necks with extra musculature and fake not having a heartbeat, hanging wasn't exactly as… final, as it was for humans) while James would pose as the hangman, allowing him to take Annamarie's body away before someone could decide to burn it or place it's head on a stake.

And so it was that two longboats rowed away from the caves of Isla de Muerta, one quickly turning away and making it out into open sea, the other heading straight towards the Dauntless.

Standing tall on the deck of the Black Pearl, James quickly looked around the assembled crowd and at their smiling faces, before turning to look at the gold-covered Jack Sparrow and felt a grin come to his face.

"Good to see you found not just your crew, but also the time to raid Barbossa's treasure and still make it here on time. To be honest, I half expected you to take the gold and run!" James called out, causing Jack to whirl around, long necklaces filled with pearls and golden fittings flying wide as he did, a grin showing several golden teeth coming to his face.

"Only half? Either you're a liar, or I've been far too trustworthy of late." The pirate Captain said with a grin as he swayed over towards the dripping wet James.

"How's the whelp?" Jack asked with a raised eyebrow.

While the pirate tried to sound nonchalant, James could clearly see the genuine interest in the other man's eye, and clapped him on the shoulder, making Jack's knees wobble under the force.

"Last I saw, he's all set to marry little Miss Elizabeth, so I figure the lad's got his happy ending then." James smiled down at the Captain, who couldn't contain an answering grin.

"Lovely! And now then, onwards! To our own happy ending!" Jack cried, finger pointing towards the bow of the ship, thick bracelets with enormous gems on his wrist and a multitude of heavy rings on his digits.

From the corner of his eye, James saw Raven take her place behind the wheel of the Pearl, the undead monkey on her shoulder and suddenly wearing a nice broche and gaudy necklace. Turning towards Marty the Dwarf, James saw the little man hold up a cloth-covered item towards him with a large smile, and giving a grin, James took the package.

Seeing what was underneath the cloth after unwrapping the item caused the immortal to let out a bellowing laugh, before he placed the crown on his head at a jaunty angle, placing his fists on his hips as he stood next to Jack, both of them looking out over the ship as her bow cleft through the waves.

"Whereto now Captain?" James rumbled, looking at the jewel-encrusted pirate next to him, who in response merely grinned and fished something from his belt.

Flicking open the compass, Jack half-turned to peer at James underneath a tiara of his own (which sat on top of his tricorn), a grin splitting his face.

"Wherever our hearts desire, Mr. Howlett. Wherever we desire!"

Fun Fact: The cast and crew walked away from filming with tons of "treasure". When production wrapped, many of them (Johnny Depp included) took some of the props from the treasure cave with them. According to Director Verbinski, not a single one of the cursed Aztec coins was left behind.

AN: *looks at last update date, blanches in fear and shame* Hooooollyyy shiiiiiiit…. Two years with a cliffy? Honestly, that's just… that's just barbaric. In my defense, it feels like I updated this only a few months ago. Still though, if you've stuck around for a whole two years just to wait for this final chapter then kudos to you and the most sincere apologies from me. I definitely did not mean for it to take this long to finish this story, but in all the excitement in my life I've just… forgotten about it. Which is a damned shame, since looking back through the story, with the experience that I have now, there was a lot that I could've done by merging these two settings. However, I've learned from my mistakes, and I won't promise you guys anything regarding future updates. I might come back later way down the line to rewrite parts of this, or I might even start working on a sequel, but that's far off into the future. For now, I simply want to say thank you to all of the readers of my first ever story. I definitely enjoyed the ride, and I certainly hope that you did too. 3

As awlays, major shout out to my amazing Patrons, Miu, justlovereadin, Carn Krauss, ReapeScythe, Thordur hrafn, Daniel Dorfman, Samuel Carson and Fakhrurrozi! I cannot thank you guys enough for willing to support me as you do, so thanks again!